


Heartkiller

by Celyan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Banter, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28456908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celyan/pseuds/Celyan
Summary: There were days — rare as they were — when Q was busy but not dreadfully so, when he was able to include a prototype in need of field testing into an agent’s kit and expect to have it returned in good condition after the mission ended, and when he didn’t need to despair over what went on the comms and how to explain those conversations to M, or even worse, Eve.This was not such a day.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Kudos: 78





	Heartkiller

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt of LDWS, week 4.
> 
> This was supposed to be posted already in July, but things happened. Better late than never though, right? 
> 
> Thanks to SandyWormbook for the beta, and for Souffle & Christine for giving me their opinions when I was unsure about certain things in this.
> 
> Also, happy new year. ✨✨

There were days — rare as they were — when Q was busy but not dreadfully so, when he was able to include a prototype in need of field testing into an agent’s kit  _ and _ expect to have it returned in good condition after the mission ended, and when he didn’t need to despair over what went on the comms and how to explain  _ those _ conversations to M, or even worse, Eve. 

This was not such a day. 

It had started at the crack of dawn, and Q wouldn’t be surprised if it ended exactly the way it had began. And it wasn’t like he’d never experienced it before, he knew to expect long days and everything that came with them. He just wished that it wouldn’t always include troublesome double-oh agents.

Or, well, one  _ particular _ double-oh agent, double-oh-bloody-seven. 

Before meeting Bond, Q had always thought of seven as his lucky number. 

Now, though? He was more and more certain that the sneaky number had simply been lulling him into a false sense of security so that when he’d least expect it, it could ambush him and squash him flat. 

Devious things, those sevens. Too smooth and sleek and sly, all of them. He really ought to have known better than to fall for it. 

The commotion of Bond arriving to collect his kit brought Q out of his thoughts, and he watched without blinking — and yes, he was unable to look away from Bond’s finest features, but it was okay as long as no one saw him looking — as the man made his way towards him, only stopping to exchange a few words with R on the way. 

Q’d been working to finish Bond’s kit for most of the day, disregarding the time he’d spent guiding 002 after lunch, and he’d made it with five minutes to spare. (The schedule wasn’t usually quite this tight, but M had requested two extra gadgets for the mission and giving the final touches to those had taken longer than he’d expected.) 

“Hello Q.” 

“007.” 

Bond looked at him and smiled. “What do you have for me this time?” 

Long since used to the effects of that smile on himself, Q simply gestured towards the table before him. “These. Now do pay attention.” And he picked up the items one by one, explained their use to Bond and watched as Bond demonstrated his understanding.

“As you are aware, this isn’t your regular mission. Great care has been taken in preparing your cover and your equipment, and it would be unfortunate if you were to negate our efforts by undue recklessness or other sorts of misuse,” Q said, looking Bond in the eye to make sure he had his full attention. 

Bond raised his eyebrows at that. “Am I to understand you want your equipment back in one piece?” 

“That goes without saying,” Q said. “What I meant is that I expect you to be on your best behaviour, with none of your usual antics. Perhaps when in doubt, consider asking yourself what would 004 do? That ought to help.” 

(Honestly, sometimes he could only despair of the behaviour of the man he was crushing on. And that, he suspected, spoke just as much about himself as it did about Bond.) 

Bond looked briefly offended, as if even the thought of being compared to 004 was too much, but then his expression smoothed back to his customary just the tiniest bit amused, but mostly serious state—for his encounters with Q, in any case. 

Sometimes Q wondered if the amused part was because of something that he’d said or done, or because it simply was the man’s general state of being. 

He hoped for the latter but feared that it might be the former. 

Although his crush on Bond was doomed either way, so he supposed it didn’t really matter after all. 

“Well, Q, I will certainly aim to meet your expectations,” Bond said, sounding faintly entertained. Q decided there and then that it just wouldn’t do. 

“Please do,” he said crisply. “And please  _ do _ remember that while the car you’re given isn’t quite the Aston Martin of your dreams, it’s still a valuable piece of equipment and we  _ will _ be needing it back.” He paused, then shrugged slightly. “Although taking into account what you did with the last one, I’m not sure why I even bother.”

He may not have said the word ’stolen’ out loud, but it was nevertheless implied in the tone of his voice, something that clearly didn’t escape Bond's notice, at least if one went by the raised eyebrows and the would-be innocent ’who, me?’ look he was sporting. 

Q was decidedly less than impressed by that, and he had no qualms about making it clear to Bond. 

“In any case, I have one more item for you,” he said and handed a familiar looking Omega Seamaster 300 watch over to Bond, who took it with apparent care, no doubt recalling the most memorable time he’d used it. 

(Although to be fair, Q’d long since been convinced that whatever Blofeld did with that drill of his hadn’t been nowhere near as serious as Bond had made it sound like. Because if it had, the man would hardly  _ be _ here telling all about it, at least not in possession of all his faculties the way he was. 

Well.  _ If _ he was in possession of those. That would honestly explain  _ so many things _ about Bond’s actions ever since.) 

“Now, you doubtlessly remember this from past missions,” Q said, “but what you aren’t aware of are all the adaptations that we’ve made for it.” He continued to explain them all down to the tiniest of detail, if only so that he could be sure that Bond knew exactly what his newest toy was capable of. But also, yes, because he was eager to show the man what he had created for him. 

“And while it still has the ability to explode, I would strongly recommend not using that particular feature unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’m sure you’ll understand why.”

Bond nodded, looking impressed. “That is quite remarkable,” he said as he strapped the watch on his wrist. Q found his eyes following the movement of Bond’s fingers, and he had to forcibly turn his gaze away lest the man would notice and make any (correct, but that was beside the point) assumptions. 

“Thank you, Q.” 

Q took a small breath—time to be the man’s Quartermaster again—and looked at Bond straight in the eye. 

“We aim to please,” he said, voice deliberately flat but with an undercurrent of steel in it. 

Bond flinched ever so slightly. Good. 

“Off you go, then,” Q said. “You have villains to defeat, hearts to break, and a world to save, as you’ve so aptly put it.” 

Bond gave him a sour look but did as he was told without further ado. 

“Oh and 007? Good luck out there in the field,” Q continued just as Bond had turned to leave. He glanced at Q and for a moment looked like he wanted to say something, then simply nodded and left the branch. 

*

When Bond returned from his mission, he did so with his kit in pristine condition and a thoughtfully chosen souvenir for Q.

He also asked Q out on a date. 


End file.
